


if you don't bet, you can't win

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coda, Dean Winchester Angst, Fluff and Angst, Movie Night, Saw Traps, Scary Movies, i think. tbh i'm not sure what a coda is, lemme know if this ain't one, sort of background destiel if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-21 17:06:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22433512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The boys sit down to watch some movies together, but it all goes south when one of the scenes hits a little too close to home.
Kudos: 19





	if you don't bet, you can't win

**Author's Note:**

> "Certainly the game is rigged. Don't let that stop you; if you don't bet, you can't win." ~Robert A. Heinlein.

It was supposed to be a simple movie marathon.

It was Cas's suggestion. He said it might be a good idea to take a day off between getting back from Garth's and starting out for whatever mysterious place Garth told them to go to so they could fix their luck. And a day off, apparently, meant a movie marathon.

Picking what to watch took a bit of discussion. Dean wanted to watch a horror movie. Initially Sam had vetoed the idea, but after some debate Dean said, "Okay, how 'bout Saw? It's a compromise."

Sam didn't exactly see how Saw was a compromise, even it did actually sound like a good idea. The skepticism must've shown on his face, because Dean held up an index finger and explained, "It's a horror movie. But one about a serial killer. That appeals to your weird little fetish."

"I've already told you it's not a fetish--"

"Yeah, whatever. You wanna watch Saw though, right?"

With a reluctant sigh, Sam admitted, "Yeah."

"Great," Dean said, clapping a hand on Sam's shoulder. He shot a look over at Cas and asked, "Cas? Saw?"

"You're finally listening to my advice, I won't push it by being picky about the movie."

Dean grinned.

Man it was nice to have those two talking again.

The only working TV in the bunker, at the moment, was the one in Dean's room. Cas sat next to Dean on the bed, and Sam took the chair he'd snagged from some other room where it wasn't being used. After Dean had thoroughly threatened them as to what would happen if anybody got grease or butter on his stuff, they got some popcorn and some pizza and beer, and set up the movies.

They watched the first two no problem.

Well, Cas wouldn't stop pointing out continuity errors, and Dean wouldn't stop throwing popcorn at him when he did, then telling him to stop getting popcorn everywhere. But other than that, no problem.

Things only went south after they got to the third movie.

They'd only made it as far as that first trap, the one in the classroom, with the guy in chains. Something about the scene must have upset Dean, because one second he was chuckling at the joke Sam had told, and then he was just quiet. He tossed the pizza slice he was chewing on back into the box, a little more like dropping it.

Sam didn't really think anything of it until Dean got up, spilling popcorn on his bed and not even stopping to notice.

He cleared his throat and said, "Be right back."

Sam frowned. "You want me to pause?"

"Don't worry about," Dean said in a rush, halfway out the door already.

The door closed behind him, and Sam and Cas both moved to get up and follow him at the same time. So Cas noticed something was up too. Sam was glad quietly thankful, it was nice to have somebody else around to worry about Dean too. 

All the same, he gestured for Cas to sit back down.

"I got this one, Cas."

"Are you sure? Maybe I could help."

"If we both go he'll just get pissed," Sam said, and Cas gave a small shrug that he took as an agreement. Naively hopeful, Sam asked, "Unless you know what's bugging him?"

Cas shook his head. "No."

"Alright, I'll go talk to him. I'll get you if it's a two man job, okay?"

Cas still seemed a little reluctant to be the one left behind, but he nodded anyway, and Sam slipped out of the room to go find Dean.

Thankfully, he didn't have to do a lot of searching. Dean had to know at least one of them would try to follow him, and he could be pretty damn quick. So if he hadn't booked it out of the hallway to avoid them that was probably a good sign, right?

He was at the end of the hallway, sort of pacing back and forth. Sam watched him for a second, trying to figure out the best way to approach this. It would be easier, he thought, if he knew what the hell Dean was thinking. He couldn't see Dean's face when he stopped his pacing, scrubbing his hands through his hair the way he did when he was freaked.

Sam glanced back at the door to Dean's room, momentarily wondering if they might need Cas after all. Then he shook his head and started down the hall, reaching a hand out towards Dean's shoulder to get his attention.

If the elbow to the ribs was any indication, Dean hadn't heard him walk up.

It was an instinct reaction, so Sam really couldn't be too mad about it. But then, the punch he nearly threw back would've been an instinct reaction too, and he managed not to do it. "Ow, what the hell, Dean?"

"Shit, Sam," was Dean's only answer. He puffed out an unconvincing laugh and said, "Y'okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. What the _hell_ , Dean?"

"I told you I'd be right back," he said, taking a step away as if to walk down the hallway, then turning and stepping back towards Sam. Okay, so maybe he wasn't quite done pacing yet. A little impatient, he asked, "What d'you want?"

"I came to check on you," Sam said, like it should have been obvious. Because it should have been obvious.

Dean scoffed. "I'm fine, go back to the movie."

"Uh huh, you're fine. Tell that to my ribcage."

"Shut up."

Sam raised an eyebrow, waiting for Dean to say something else. Instead, he just sat down on the floor, back to the wall. After a couple of seconds, Sam moved to sit down next to him. Some more silence went by, then he said, "So you gonna tell me what's wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong."

"Is it a Normal thing? What, are you grossed out by horror movies now?"

He didn't have super high hopes for that being the problem. Normal people liked horror movies too, and besides, if the problem was that Dean suddenly didn't like them anymore it would've come up during the first Saw. No, it had something to do with the third one. That was the only thing that made sense. Not that Sam could make sense of it. 

"No, Sam, it's not a Normal thing." Dean puffed out an angry breath, leaning his head back against the wall. "It's the furthest from a Normal fucking thing."

Sam wasn't sure whether he should ask or not, but he did anyway. "It's about the movie, though, right?"

"I said shut up, Sam."

That was basically a yes in Dean-Speak. Sam was fluent enough to teach courses by now.

He shot a look over at Dean, as if that would give him any further insight into what was going on. Then, just in case it needed saying, he said, "Whatever it is, you know you can tell me, right?"

"This is stupid. I should be over it." Dean said, and it seemed like he was talking to himself more than he was talking to Sam. "I thought I was over it."

"Dean, over what?"

Dean shot a look over at Sam. Then he turned away again, looking at a spot on the wall in front of them instead. With a reluctant sigh, he said simply, "That guy in the classroom. With all the chains."

Sam waited a second for Dean to elaborate. When he didn't, Sam nudged. "What about him?"

"It reminded me," he said, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Of something that happened to me. In Hell."

"What?" was the best answer Sam had.

Dean shrugged. "Alastair used hooks, but y'know. Same idea."

Sam didn't really know where to go from there.

The image that put in his head sort of made him nauseas to be honest, but there was more to it than that. He wasn't practiced in having answers for this conversation, they didn't have this conversation.

They hadn't even talked about Hell for years, it had been years since either of them went. Well, they'd taken a few trips downstairs since then, like their little visit to Rowena not too long ago. But it had been years since they went like _that_. Sam still thought about it sometimes. How could he not? He still had the occasional nightmare. He didn't doubt that Dean did, too.

Their visits to Hell had been pretty different, though. Sam spent the whole time in the Cage, he wasn't sure how their experiences differed but he was sure they did. It wasn't exactly the kind of topic they just had over dinner and a beer.

And even on the few occasions he had gotten Dean to talk about Hell, it had always been in vague references, big picture ideas. Dean had never actually told Sam about anything that happened to him down there. All Sam knew was that it had been...well, Hell.

When Sam didn't answer immediately, Dean huffed and said, "Like I said. It's stupid."

"I didn't say it was stupid," Sam said.

"Yeah, well it is," he said, shifting his legs again. Dean never could sit still for too long, and conversations like this one, Sam knew, made him antsy. "It's just. Lately, I've been thinking."

"That's dangerous."

He saw the faintest hint of a smile on Dean's face at the joke, and Dean lightly elbowed him again.

After a second, Sam said, "Me too, actually."

"I didn't say what I was thinking about," Dean said, glancing over at him with a frown.

"Hell," Sam said, matter of fact. It was an easier topic to approach matter of fact than it was any other way. Still, it wasn't easy to approach. "I know."

Of course they'd both made the connection. They weren't stupid.

A soul that's been to Hell can't go to Heaven.

That fun little tidbit of information they'd picked up now that God wasn't making exceptions anymore. Now that they'd pissed him off. Sam and Dean had both been to Hell. That meant that, be it tomorrow or years or even decades in the future, eventually, they would be going back to Hell.

It didn't change anything. They still had to do what they had to do.

But it wasn't what you would call a pleasant thought.

Dean looked back at him for a moment, the silent truth of it hovering in the air. Then, with an angry huff, he was on his feet again. Talking about Saw III again, for some reason. He said, "The damned door was welded shut!"

Sam looked up at him. "Dean, what are you--"

"It was welded shut, Sam," Dean repeated, slamming a fist into the wall.

"I...Yeah, it was. And?"

"That poor bastard didn't even know. He played along with the stupid game! He did what they wanted him to do!" Dean was yelling more at the ceiling than at Sam. He kicked the wall with enough force that Sam was worried for his bare toes, then went on, "He did what they asked! Or tried to anyway, and what did he get for it?"

Sam thought about answering, but he wouldn't know what to say, and he doubted Dean wanted a reply from him anyway.

"It's not fair!" Dean said. "Even if he got free, there was no way out. Because the door. Was welded. Shut!"

If there had been something in the hallway for him to break, Sam was sure it would've been in pieces by then. Instead, the wall took another beating, as Dean punctuated his words with one punch after another.

Once he'd got whatever that was out of his system, Dean scrubbed a tired hand over his face. His knuckles were bleeding. He leaned against the wall across from Sam and slid back down to the floor. Softly, he said again, "The fucking game's rigged."

Sam didn't really think when he said, "There was a window."

Dean looked up at him. It was difficult to tell whether that was anger or disbelief on his face. He blinked at Sam and said, "What?"

Sam suddenly wondered whether he should've said anything. He stared back at Dean and repeated with a small shrug, "There was a window."

"There was?"

He sounded too desperate to be someone asking about a continuity error in a movie from 2006. The detective had said there was no way out of the room, but if he'd been quick enough the guy could've gone through a window.

Sam gave a small nod, and watched some of the tension visibly drop out of Dean's shoulders. He said, "Yeah. I mean, I doubt Amanda noticed it, since they kind of make a point of there not being a way out. But yeah. I guess even a rigged game can be won by the right players."

Dean nodded.

Almost too quiet for Sam to hear, he said, "If you don't bet, you can't win."

They sat there on the floor in the hallway for another minute in quiet, but it seemed like the storm had passed. Whatever answers Dean had been searching for, he'd found.

Tentative, Sam got to his feet and offered a hand to help Dean up. "C'mon, let's get some ice for your knuckles."

"Good idea," Dean said, accepting the hand and letting Sam help him up.

"I think you owe the wall an apology, while we're at it."

Dean scoffed. "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam said, bumping Dean with his shoulder as they walked.

They made quick work of rinsing the blood off Dean's knuckles, and finding an icepack for him to put over it. As they were walking back to Dean's room, Sam said, "Y'know, we can find a different movie to watch. Or maybe have a game night instead."

"Nah, I wanna see Cas hide behind his trench coat at the pig scene," Dean said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Then, "Board games, seriously, grandma?"

Sam just rolled his eyes, suppressing a chuckle.

When they made it back to Dean's room, Cas was trying to look busy reading the cooking magazine he'd picked up off Dean's nightstand. Sam imagined he'd overheard at least some of Dean's shouting from down the hall, and he definitely noticed the fresh bruising on Dean's knuckles. But he didn't comment when Dean sat back down next to him, and Sam dropped back into the chair by the bed.

They wordlessly went back to watching the movie, and Dean was throwing popcorn at them again in no time.

"That's disgusting," Cas said when they made it to the scene with the dead pigs.

Sam glanced over to see he'd pulled up the front of his coat to hide behind it, peering out over the top just enough to see the screen still. When he looked over at Dean he saw that Dean was looking at Cas, an amused little grin flickering across his face.

Sam smiled too, looking back to the TV.

Maybe the game was rigged, but so what. Sam's money was still on the players that he'd been playing it with all along. 


End file.
